


your dreams and memories (are blurring into one)

by orphan_account



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: 5 + 1 Things, Alternate Universe - No Squip, Cuddling, Depression, Developing Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Issues, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Slow Burn, Squip-Free Environment, Suicide Attempt, Trans Jeremy, Trans Male Character, sophomore year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-25 16:34:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15644658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Five times Jeremy fell asleep in Michael's bed and one time Michael fell asleep in his.





	1. here comes the rain again (falling from the stars)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Jeremy, tell me five things you can see," Michael said quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Work title from Sleepsong by Bastille.
> 
> TW for fighting parents, mentions of divorce, and panic attack.
> 
> Chapter title from Wake Me Up When September Ends by Green Day.

"Jeremy what the fuck," Michael hissed at the brunette boy who currently had one leg in his window, one leg out, and carefully trying to climb in.

Jeremy jumped and nearly fell, but caught himself on the windowsill and got the rest of the way in and collapsed on the floor. It was then when Michael saw just how awful Jeremy looked, with tear tracks on his slightly red face, his breathing a little fast.

"Hey, hey, you okay?" Michael asked, snapping into Protective Best Friend mode and jumping up from his desk to crouch down in front of him.

"Parents were fighting, and I heard mom shout that she wanted a divorce, and then they started screaming again, I almost had a panic attack, I can't breathe-"

  
Jeremy cut himself off, trying desperately to control his breathing, and Michael wrapped him in a loose hug and began rubbing mindless patterns on his back.

"Jeremy, tell me five things you can see," Michael said quickly.

Jeremy took a couple seconds before he could answer. "Y-you, the f-floor, t-t-the wall, y-your b-bed, m-my jeans."

"Good. Can you tell me things you can touch?" Michael gently asked.

"Your h-hoodie, t-the carpet, m-m-my cardigan," Jeremy answered, his breathing hitching and then slowing down a bit.

"You're doing great, Jeremy. How about three things you can hear?"

"Your voice, m-my breathing, t-the weird song y-you're playing from your h-headphones."

"Two things you can smell?"

"W-weed and smelly laundry detergent." 

"Great. One thing you can taste?"

"Blood? I-I bit the i-inside of my mouth.."

"Good. Do you wanna lay down in my bed? Once you take your binder off, of course."

"A-are you using it?"

"Yes. With you."

Jeremy blushed a tiny bit.

"O-okay. Th-thank you, Michael."

"Hey, hey, hey, it's fine. You wanna talk about it?" Michael asked, helping Jeremy take off the tight piece of clothing under his shirt off with closed eyes, discarding it on the floor, and leading him up the ladder to his loft bed.

"They w-were fighting w-when I got home, s-screaming at each other, I-I skipped dinner because th-they were in the kitchen, and l-like I said, a-around 10 m-mom said that... th-that she wanted a divorce. Then they kept fighting and then I h-had to get out."

"Okay. Okay. Your parents... well, if they get divorced, then whichever parent you end up with will be happier, right? Since you're not the one causing issues, they just can't get along. Or maybe they've just hit a rough patch and it'll be fine later."

"It's really not me who's causing it?"

"Oh, hell no, Jeremy. It's them. You've got nothing to do with it. Do you want some food?"

"Th-that'd be nice."

"Here, get my tablet, put on a movie, if you can find my earbuds we can put those in, if not just keep the volume down, my parents are asleep. I'll go get the stuff, since I know how to sneak around in my house at all hours of the night."

Jeremy snorted. "I would sure hope you know how to do that," he said, grabbing the tablet from the top of Michael's bookshelf and the earbuds that were right next to it.

"Okay. You gonna be good for a couple minutes?"

Jeremy nodded, so Michael quietly opened the door, slipped out, and closed it behind him.

Jeremy browsed through Netflix, pretending to actually consider other movies before clicking on Moana and pausing it at the castle logo, so that Michael wouldn't miss the turtle scene.

Michael came back in a couple of minutes with a bag of Sour Patch Kids, a bag of Swedish Fish, and two bowls of ice cream, handing it all up to Jeremy so he could climb up without risking falling off the ladder.

Michael snorted softly when he saw what Jeremy had chosen. "Moana again?"

"It's my favourite, jerk," Jeremy said, and Michael chuckled into his pillow.

They got settled with the bags of candy open, and Jeremy unpaused the movie. Like every time, Michael started crying at the turtle scene and didn't stop until Moana landed on Maui's island.

"Replace Moana with Dear Evan Hansen and that reaction might make sense," Jeremy joked quietly.

"Shut up, this is my favourite part," Michael whispered.

"Bullshit. Your favourite part is I Am Moana."

"Second favourite part, then."

"Say that to Grandma Tala's death scene. I could do this all day."

Michael quickly buried his face in his pillow to snort, and Jeremy buried his own face in another pillow to giggle.

Sometime after Maui re-learned to use his hook but before the first attempt to defeat Te Ka, the ice-cream bowls had been set on Michael's desk, and the candy deposited in the drawer, but quickly enough so that Michael didn't miss I Am Moana, which Jeremy had a good quiet laugh at.

After the movie was over, Michael made Jeremy pick another one, and like an utter jerk, he chose Inside Out.

"Dude. I literally just stopped crying," Michael hissed as Jeremy pushed play.

"Don't care," Jeremy smirked.

Michael smacked him playfully. "You're evil."

"I know."

About halfway through the movie, Jeremy had begun to drift off. Inside Out was a much more peaceful movie to fall asleep to, and plus, you could look up the words ‘hot water bottle’ and you'd get a picture of Michael. He passed out after Joy and Bing Bong fell into that ominous memory pit.

Michael didn't realise that Jeremy was asleep until after the movie was over, and being really fucking tired himself, he slowly put the tablet and earbuds away, trying to not move too much to avoid waking Jeremy up, and settled in bed next to him.

Jeremy had curled up on his side, facing Michael, his face peaceful, at least for now, his eyes shifting under his eyelids.

 _He's beautiful,_ Michael thought.

Now, he had options. He could climb over Jeremy and spoon him (Michael, being the taller and generally bigger one, was always he big spoon), he could continue to admire Jeremy from where he was, or he could roll over and go to sleep.

He chose the second option.

Jeremy had the messiest hair he'd ever seen, wavy, a beautiful shade of chestnut brown mixed with some lighter and darker shades, he had pale skin, some light freckles sprinkled around his face, mostly over his nose and under his eyes, he had a perfect little mole under his left ear, his lips were pink, like most lips are, and he had a slightly long neck, with more freckles on his exposed collarbone.

Michael considered taking a picture, but he chose not to, seeing as he'd have to use flash and/or turn the lights on for a picture that did justice to Jeremy's face, and he didn't want to risk waking him.

So instead, he resorted to staring at the boy as he dreamed, eventually dropping off himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guess what contrary to my last fic mrs.heere accepted her son but left for other reasons. or at least heere, she did.


	2. and you say get over here and play a video game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dimly lot surroundings and background of the game blurred out as they focused on hitting Cyclops Skelesnake The 3rd again and again with Jeremy's HP Thief powerup while Michael's avatar rushed around, sword outstretched to chop off it's hind legs from the blind spot they'd discovered the other day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original title from Carry You Home by Chaley Rose (when your heart's screaming out (no one can hear your song) ) (and i may reuse it for chapter 4) current title from Video Games by Lana Del Rey.
> 
>  
> 
> TW for canon-typical video game violence

Jeremy and Michael were sitting close, almost painfully close, the beanbags long forgotten and now servicing as back-rests as they sat cross-legged on the stiff, dirty, abrasive beige carpet, hyper-focused on the level they're playing. It's a boss level, and according to the gaming community, notoriously hard to beat, especially since it was only the 13th level out of 30.

The dimly lot surroundings and background of the game blurred out as they focused on hitting Cyclops Skelesnake The 3rd again and again with Jeremy's HP Thief powerup while Michael's avatar rushed around, sword outstretched to chop off it's hind legs from the blind spot they'd discovered the other day.

The basement is a wreck, the floor immediately surrounding them littered with empty cans and candy wrappers, and the broken Wii remotes and the parts of the finicky joystick controller from when Jeremy had tried to take it apart, fix it, and put it back together scattered around, some springs rolling under Jeremy's beanbag as their sore thumbs worked the oddly-shaped controllers.

In the background, Michael's forgotten phone softly played Seventeen, from the one and only musical he knew, Heathers, and he swore by it. This was their mutual second favourite song, Michael's favourite being Kindergarten Boyfriend, Jeremy's being Lifeboat.

"Dude, behind you!" Michael cried, and Jeremy's avatar turned around just quickly enough to jump out of the way of a sharp, deadly, probably poisonous spike extending rapidly from the wall in the dark forest ditch the boss lair was located in.

"I've never seen those before!" Jeremy responded, jumping out of the way of a lunge from Cyclops Skelesnake The 3rd and hitting it with another HP Thief.

"Must be that we're getting closer," Michael said, not taking his eyes off the screen as his character sliced both legs off in one quick motion. "Go for the heart, Jeremy!"

Jeremy's avatar jumped quickly and stabbed Cyclops in the stomach area, where his heart was rumoured to be located, and dragging his sword down the length of it's body.

It reared on it's front legs (so was it fore-ing, not rearing?) and let out a blood curdling screech, yet quietly, since the volume had been turned down about three hours ago, mindful of Michael's moms popping their heads in, saying they were going to sleep, and please be quiet and don't stay up all night (ha.)

Unfortunately, it spawned four new legs, brand new, and began slowly regenerating internal tissue and bone.

"Dude, this must be the Lernaean Hydra element they talked about pre-release!" Jeremy cried wearily.

"Could this level get any harder?" Michael moaned.

"Probably. Behind you."

Michael whirled his avatar around and whipped his handgun off his belt and blew the head off a floating poison flower that were rumoured to haunt either the 13th or 18th boss lair, and jumped off the harmless, still floating, blue and purple blossom to disable two more, but getting hit on the side by yet another in the process, throwing his avatar to the ground.

"Michael, you need to get closer to me, I can heal you."

"Then you'll be distracted and it can pounce!"

"No, listen. I'll stop the HP Thief for a moment, long enough to throw a healing spell on you, then you can jump up and decapitate it, and make sure to take out your Pyro Blaster to burn the stump before anything can grow out of it. That's how the Lernaean Hydra works."

"It'll be risky."

"Roll, you're about to get stepped on. It's our only chance. Go!"

Michael's avatar sprinted for Jeremy's, slicing a thick ribbon of pixelated bone off the side of the Cyclops as he ran, and Jeremy quickly hit him with a grey and blue healing spell and jumped up, out of the way of another spike, making some of the spell hit the wall behind them rather than Michael, but most of it hit its mark, bringing his HP bar back into the green zone, and he quickly jumped as soon as he could, taking out the Pyro Gun in midair and using his other hand and sword to slice off the bug-like head and burning smoking the stump thoroughly before activating Wall Shoes to land on the side of the ditch and jump to make another pass, this one slicing the monster in two, Jeremy setting one half on fire with another spell, Michael getting the other with the Pryo Gun.

The beast let out one last screech before it's fourth and final HP bar fell into yellow, then red, then nothing, and the remainder of the thing exploded into multi-coloured pixel fragments as a victory message played.

Jeremy just about collapsed into the weary fistbump he shared with Michael.

"Bed?" Michael suggested.

"I would go to sleep right here, honestly. Anywhere," Jeremy moaned, grabbing Michael's phone, turning off the music (currently playing Meant To Be Yours) and handing it to Michael.

"Well, I think my bed will be more comfy."

"Can't guarantee I'll be able to make it all the way upstairs without falling asleep standing up," Jeremy said as he stood up to shut off the game console and TV.

"I'd carry you the rest of the way, every day," Michael blurted out. "No homo, of course."

The two stumbled out of the basement, making far too much noise, banging into everything, especially Jeremy, the biggest klutz in New Jersey, so Michael figured there was enough justification for him to scoop him up and carry his best friend bride-style up the stairs and into his room.

If he was awake enough, he would've been able to feel the shame from the the No Homo gods.

Jeremy stood up when they'd gotten up the stairs and clung to Michael as they tip-toed down the hall, greatly reducing the amount of noise he could make, but he did stumble over a binder when Michael opened the door to his room and made a little clatter, but Michael wrapped his arms around Jeremy's middle quickly and pulled him backwards, into a position where their faces were so close they could feel the other's breath on their cheeks.

Jeremy, once his brain processed the situation, blushed heavily. God, I really want to kiss him now, Jeremy thought.

As soon as he thought that, he grew scared. Of course, Michael wouldn't like that. They were just friends, even if Michael was gay, there was no way in the world that he'd like him back. Never, ever. Michael would freak out, get angry, and he'd freak out, and it'd ruin their friendship forever, their friendship that had just been repaired after the SQUIP-cident.

No, he wouldn't like me.

With that, he found his footing and stood on his own.

"Dude, your face, it just got... sad," Michael said quietly, heading up the ladder.

"I'm fine, just thinking about stuff," Jeremy responded.

"This, coming from the boy who had to be carried up the stairs so he didn't wake my mothers up," Michael joked. "But, seriously, are you okay? Is it... is it family stuff?"

"Oh, no, no, no, don't worry, Michael, everything's fine on the home front. For now, at least."

"That's good."

The two laid down in bed, Jeremy purposefully curling up on the inside, leaving plenty of space between him and Michael, trying to sleep, but instead just thinking about Michael.

_He's beautiful, and I'm not good enough for him. I won't ever be._

His sad, mournful heart couldn't find it's way to sleep's door until an hour later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> • The game/monster they're trying to beat was inspired by Episode 13 of Season 1 of Sword Art Online, Edge Of Hell's Abyss.
> 
> • The Lernaean Hydra was one of the monsters Hercules (Greek spelling Heracles) second of the 12 labors of Hercules was to kill the Hydra. The Lernaean Hydra had nine heads, which, however, when cut off, two more grew in its place. The monster also had one immortal head that was in the middle. 
> 
> All of the heads could spit deadly acid as well. To defeat the Hydra, Hercules called on his nephew Iolaus for help. As soon as Hercules cut off one head, Iolaus would seal the wound with a red hot poker so that nothing could grow to replace it.
> 
> • Guys this is now my most-kudos-ed work, with FORTY!!!!!!!!!!!!! kudos!!! And my fastest growing one. Thank you all so much!! <3 <3 :))) also @lovethecronch I looked at your bookmark of this and then subbed just for that name i'm dead
> 
> • Realised I mentioned the Squip even though this takes place sophmore year AND it's a certified Squip-free environment, so I smoked him out with some Red. Don't worry.


	3. in spite of the uneven odds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hey, quit hogging the blanket, dude," Michael dissented, grabbing one end and pulling it towards him, and after a minute of arranging, Michael and Jeremy were right next to each other, and the blanket pulled around both of their bodies easily and comfortably, and their sandwiches were unwrapped, paper towels distributed, and heads turned towards the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Uneven Odds by Sleeping At Last.

Jeremy was sitting on the porch swing at 10:57 on a Saturday night, wearing his blue cardigan and jeans, no shoes, clutching his phone and trying to let Ryan O'Neal's voice soothe his tense mind and features as he stared at the tulips that his aunt had sent him from the Netherlands and he'd raised. Trying to let the reds and yellows soothe as well.

It wasn't working.

The night was a little cool for August, and there was a steady wind unchecked by the porch roof, keeping the wicker swing gently swaying and making him utterly freezing.

The driveway, to his left, seemed unbearably empty with his mom's blue 2011 Honda Civic gone, and the chill she'd left in her wake still lingered, keeping goosebumps raised on Jeremy's arms, despite the cardigan.

Cars drove by every couple minutes, paying no mind to the boy with his knees in his chest and a tear stained face, focused on whatever mundane task they were performing at the hour. At one point, the rolled down windows on a Buick minivan allowed Jeremy to figure out that a young woman was bringing milkshakes to her pregnant sister and her husband, and boy, could Jeremy go for a milkshake right now. He craved a brain freeze to let all of the stress and anxiety and grief melt away.

What he wasn't expecting, was a familiar black PT Cruiser to drive up, windows down, Whitney Houston playing softer than Michael normally played his music, meaning he knew about Jeremy's situation despite him having not texted Michael since 5 in the afternoon, or he was mindful that people might be in bed already at this hour, or both.

Whatever the reason, he stumbled up from the porch swing, wincing as it hit the wall behind it as the car slowed to a stop in front of his house, and quickly walked down the stairs and across the lawn, around the front of the car, and got in the front seat, teeth chattering.

Michael didn't say anything, just handed him a bottle of water and tucked a giant plush Mrs. Pac-Man blanket around the boy once he was buckled in.

Afraid to break the silence, Jeremy didn't say anything either, until it was clear that they weren't heading for Michael's house or 7/11.

"W-where are we g-going?" Jeremy stuttered out, throat a little hoarse from screaming.

"Brekker Field. The Perseids are peaking tonight," Michael answered.

"B-but... how'd you k-know to... know t-to c-come?"

"Best friend radar. I can smell your sadness from miles away. Do you wanna talk? Did she leave for the night again?"

"No, Michael... s-she's gone for g-good now."

"Are you serious?"

"Y-yes... she s-screamed a l-lot, she's been ch-cheating... cheating on Dad... she's going to A-Arizona with her n-new boyfriend, E-Eric."

"My god. Are you okay? I mean, probably not mentally, but physically?"

"She d-didn't hit me... s-she did s-say th-that sh-she didn't... didn't want c-custody of m-me a-a-at a- _all_ , th-that Eric is y-young a-and good a-and he h-has two _normal_ kids."

"Normal like..."

"Cis. A-Average. G-Good grades, n-no v-video games, y-young, a f-five-year o-old and a s-seven y-year old. I-I th-thought that sh-she'd _a-accepted_ me.."

"If she comes back again, I'm going to kill her," Michael said, turning off Route Nine onto Brekk road and then into the empty parking lot, dimly lit by flickering yellow streetlights reflecting off puddles left from the thunderstorm that morning.

When Jeremy got out, barefoot and still swaddled in the blanket, and turned his head towards the sky, he could see that it was clear now, no clouds above whatsoever.

Michael opened the driver-side backseat door and came out with two plastic Walmart bags clearly containing Sour Patch Kids, Jeremy's absolute favourite candy, Twizzlers, and two Walmart subs, one Italian and one New York, and two big beach towels.

"Does your m-mom even know y-you eat all th-that crap?" Jeremy asked as Michael locked the car and the two walked out onto the damp grass, towards the hill near the western-most corner of the field, fondly nicknamed Halley's Hill, from which Halley's Comet had been viewed in 1986 and had since become known as the best stargazing location in Middleborough.

"What she doesn't know won't hurt her, nor will it hurt Nanay. Besides, I'm helping you, I think I deserve a junk food pass."

"Are y-you only friends w-with me f-for physiological junk f-food passes from your... y-your Jiminy C-cricket?

Michael snorted. "My Jiminy cricket ? Excuse me, but my conscience is Barney."

Jeremy snapped his fingers as he laughed, clear and beautiful, ringing across the dark field. "Conscience, th-that's the w-word I was l-looking for! A-also, do you h-have a kink or s-something?"

"This, coming from the local furry."

"I a-am _not_!"

"I don't know, your Netflix profile is pretty damning evidence."

Jeremy tried to think of a clever retort, but when he realised that he'd been backed into a corner, he groan-laughed and threw his head back to conceal his blush, though the darkness of the field made that kind of unnecessary.

Michael laughed, a deep sound from the belly that made you want to laugh even if you hadn't been before. "Wait, hey, let's stop at the bathrooms, get some sodas from the vending machine."

So they turned left and headed for the bright, glaring light behind Michael's glasses, and the less glaring light but still way too bright for Jeremy's dark-adjusted eyes.

Michael took out some loose change from his pocket, counted it out in his palm. "Two dollars, plenty enough. Whadda you want?"

"Um, M-Mountain Dew?"

"You're putting green factory-made poison into your body, but whatever. I'll get a Fanta orange," Michael commented, pressing the buttons and inserting four quarters to pay for the two sodas.

It was Jeremy's turn to snort. "Like Fanta is any better?"

"At least it doesn't have caffeine."

"We're w-watching a m-meteor sh-shower. I a-assumed we'd be o-out here f-for awhile."

"Irrelevant," Michael said, grabbing the two cans as they tumbled down the shoot, just before they could clatter in the little plastic box thing and startle Jeremy.

"Enjoy ruining your body," he said, slowly and carefully opening his can, handing Jeremy the other one.

"Enjoy a-all that s-sugar, s-smart-ass," Jeremy shot back.

"Wait, dude, are you wearing shoes?" Michael asked, staring down at Jeremy's feet, lit slightly by the fluorescent lights now behind them.

"Nope."

"Why?"

"Sometimes, a d-dude doesn't th-think to grab sh-shoes before r-running out of the h-house in t-tears," Jeremy said, and Michael went silent for awhile.

"Sorry," Michael said finally, as they were climbing the hill.

"I-it's whatever, man."

"No, I was insensitive."

"M-Michael, stop a-acting like m-me and n-not accepting a-an apology a-acceptation. J-just say o-okay," Jeremy snapped suddenly. "S-sorry."

"You're right, you're right. Now, can you hold the bags for a second while I spread out the towels?"

"Y-yeah," Jeremy said, using his blanket-covered paws to grab the crinkling bags from Michael, then just standing there as Michael spread out the beach towels, giant fluffy numbers, one with Princess Belle and Princess Ariel on it, the other with the Little Einsteins.

"Okay, you can sit down now, but the Little Einsteins one is mine," Michael said finally, standing up to take one of the bags from Jeremy.

Jeremy sunk down onto the princess towel, tucking his legs into the blanket as he set down the bag and his can of soda.

"Hey, quit hogging the blanket, dude," Michael dissented, grabbing one end and pulling it towards him, and after a minute of arranging, Michael and Jeremy were right next to each other, and the blanket pulled around both of their bodies easily and comfortably, and their sandwiches were unwrapped, paper towels distributed, and heads turned towards the sky.

"This is not the ideal position to eat a sandwich in, I know," Michael said, about halfway through his.

"Oh well, it sure isn't the end of the world," Jeremy said, munching.

They stayed silent for about twenty minutes, finishing their subs and moving their plan of world domination on to Twizzlers and Sour Patch kids, sodas long since conquered.

Once they'd done that, they'd laid on their backs, Jeremy kind of cuddling Michael, holy fuck, munching on junk.

Jeremy's poor, sad heart couldn't handle this kind of shit. One thing at a time.

But the world just didn't work that way.

Michael, on the other towel, wasn't doing much better. Sure, his mom hadn't up and left him, and he was in decent mental health, but Jeremy was snuggling into his fucking side. His heart wasn't handling things any better than the other boy.

Jeremy gasped softly, interrupting his thoughts.

"I saw one!" He cried, like a little kid. At any rate, it was adorable.

"Where?" Michael asked. Jeremy laughed.

"Over there-" he pointed to a spot "But it's gone now!"

"Of course it is!" Michael responded, and they fell into a comfortable silence.

After about... oh, eight minutes, Michael gasped. "You see that?" He asked.

"Yeah!"

Michael took off his glasses, took his cleaning cloth out of the front pocket of his sweatshirt, and quickly cleaned them, put them back on, and not ten minutes and two shooting stars later, he took them off and repeated the process, and again a couple minutes later.

"Is th-there something s-stuck on t-them?" Jeremy asked the fifth time this had happened.

"No, they just keep fogging up, and I can't see half the stars when they do that."

"Should've w-worn contacts, h-huh?" Jeremy snarked, his smirk a welcome floodlight in the dark.

Michael playfully shoved him, and after they'd stopped laughing, Jeremy scooted back into Michael's side, and instantly regretted it.

_Oh my god, now he'll think you're too clingy, you're acting like a little kid, he's gonna get mad, he's gonna get mad-_

Michael exhaled loudly. "Jeremy, Jesus Christ. I can hear you stressing out. It's fine, Nanay and Mom tell me I'm an organic hot water bottle, and I know that you know that. Besides, we've been friends for eleven years, almost twelve, now. It's fine."

"S-sorry,"

"You apologise entirely too much." A beat. "You want to apologise again, don't you."

"V-very m-much so."

Michael snorted and wrapped an arm around Jeremy's middle. The receiver of the guest er stiffened up for a couple seconds before relaxing.

Nothing more was said for awhile, and Jeremy could tell it'd been an hour, and then another, when he felt Michael's head roll a little towards him.

Michael was, without a doubt, asleep.

Michael was half-snuggling him still.

 _This is not the time for a gay crisis_ , Jeremy thought, while the rest of his mind screeched and panicked, leaving his consciousness in a confused, slightly panicked, anxiety ridden state.

Of course, when was he _not_ anxiety ridden and/or confused?

Still, he couldn't help but take out his phone and make a couple of google searches.

_i think i like both boys and girls??? google help_

No, he didn't care about Metro Station or Hayley Kiyoko, thanks but no thanks.

_attraction to boys and girls_

His results were mostly articles about why girls liked bad boys, which was not what he was looking for.

_am i gay_

Eh, he didn't feel like reading a long-ass article from yoursexualorientation.info. It was late and he was too emotionally exhausted.

_am i gay quiz_

He clicked on the first result on a website he knew, Proprofs. A quiz. Are You Straight, Bisexual, or Gay?

He wanted to google up 'bisexual' but first, he took the quiz.

He sped through the first nine questions as honestly as he could, and then he came to question 10/10

_What do you think your sexuality is?_

_A) I am straight_

_B) It's not like I'd date the same sex but I do fool around with them sometimes just for fun_

_C) I think I'm bi. I'd date guys or girls_

He didn't even have to read the rest of the answers before smashing that one with his thumb.

_You got: You're 100% straight and have never and most likely will never have a gay experiance. It's great that you know where you stand sexualy but try not to be such a homophobic. Nobody says you have to like the idea of gay relationships but disrespect is another thing._

Jeremy snorted. That'd been a waste of his time. He knew he respected gay people; he was pretty sure he was one. Hell, Michael was gay, he'd come out to him last year, and he felt exactly the same with Michael after the fact.

Or was it right? Sure, he might not be homophobic, but maybe he was straight. Maybe he was lying to himself about possible attraction to his friend of eleven years.

Then again, this was coming from a quiz that had misspelled 'experience' and 'sexually.'

He caught another shooting star from the corner of his eye as he x-ed out the tab.

Now, he typed in 'bisexual.'

 _ˌbīˈsekSH(o͞o)əl_  
_adjective_  
1.  
sexually attracted to both men and women.  
noun  
1.  
a person who is sexually attracted to both men and women.

Maybe that quiz hadn't been entirely useless after all.

A glance at the clock at the top of his screen showed that it was 1:52 AM, and probably time to be heading to someone's house, probably Michael's, considering the circumstances, and considering that Michael was asleep on him.

So he regretfully shook Michael awake.

"Ugh, Jeremy," Michael moaned, "Five more minutes."

"No, i-it's a-almost 2 AM. I d-don't want to risk f-finding a raccoon on m-my face in th-the m-morning if I f-fall a-asleep."

"Rude."

"C-c'mon, I-I don't have a license."

"Fine, gimme a sec."

So that's how they ended up sneaking into Michael's open bedroom window from the tree next to it, something Jeremy had done a number of times, Michael never, which was fun, especially when Michael put his weight on a branch Jeremy had specifically told him to avoid and nearly fell nine feet.

When they'd finally gotten in ("D-don't you e-ever worry a-about m-murderers s-sneaking in th-through that?" "Never.) they'd made a beeline for Michael's loft bed, practically collapsing onto the soft mattress and curling up to sleep immediately, Jeremy on his stomach and Michael on his side.

_Maybe I'm bisexual._

That was the last thought that crossed Jeremy's mind before he fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> • This is based on a true story. I took a beach towel, my phone and earbuds outside at 9:00 PM last night, decided it wasn't dark enough, went out again at 9:30, and saw two or three meteors, but the star (hah) of the night was seeing the stars emerge. Like Michael, glasses were fogging up like crazy, and I couldn't go five minutes without having to wipe them. 
> 
> • When I went back inside, at like, 10:15, I had a snack and promptly cranked 75% of this out in an hour, all the while stressing out over movements from my dad's bedroom, worrying he'd come out and yell at me. My mom came down from HER room twice to do god-only-knows what, but she didn't pay the light from under my door any mind.
> 
> • When I typed 'Jesus Christ' it autocorrected to 'Jesus no' and honestly mood.
> 
> • For authenticity, I put in Jeremy's search terms and did the quiz. The result he got was my result, which I found hilarious, since I'm very pansexual, thanks you very much.
> 
> • I took some artistic liberties with the Perseids, since they actually peaked Sunday night, not Saturday, but I didn't want this to take place on a Sunday because it wouldn't make total sense for Jeremy to sleep over at Michael's on a school night.
> 
> • Okay so maybe Mrs. Heere didn't really accept Jeremy. Oops.


	4. storms are approaching

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for period, depressive and self deprecating thoughts, near fainting, near breakdown, self hate, and a back injury.
> 
> Title from Lifeboat from Heathers.

Jeremy had woken up to a bloodstain on his sheets and cramps, missed the bus and had to walk to school after watering his tulips, skidding on a fallen leaf like a cartoon character and almost breaking his back, and sliding into his homeroom seat as the bell was ringing.

He'd gotten back a math test with only a B+, been assigned oral presentations in english, and forgotten his lunch at home and didn't have any money since he'd spent it all on groceries when his dad hadn't now that his mom was gone and he was gone too, well, AWOL.

So he'd spent lunch period in the library, taking a nap until the crusty old librarian, Mrs. Harper, had yelled at him to get his badonkadonk (he had _assumed_ she'd meant his butt, but who knows) out of the chair and to his next class, which was gym, and he was still sore from the previous day, and grumpy now, but there just _had_ to be a pacer test today, and he'd nearly passed out and almost had a panic attack and he'd partially stained his gym shorts with blood.

So he'd been sent to the nurse who sent him right back with one of those stupid tampons with the cardboard applicators, and some of the kids who were in his gym class happened to have physics with him, so he'd been jeered at, and he'd been stuffed in a locker on his way to sixth period by one of them, making him late for class and then tripped just outside the school, and he hadn't seen Michael _all day_ , except in first period, but that didn't count because Michael had left halfway through to go to the bathroom and hadn't come back, and since Jeremy had come in so late, he didn't have the time to say hi, and he was 99.9 percent sure that Michael had skipped Physics since the teacher hated him.

All things considered, he'd had a pretty fucking shitty day.

So he gladly accepted Michael's invitation to hang out at his house, especially since if he came at this hour, his moms would automatically make him an extra portion of food (side effects of your best friend's parents liking you and knowing you for years) and he wouldn't have to figure out his daily dinner ration and go to bed hungry, since $70 can only buy you so many groceries, and he didn't want to break into his bar mitzvah money unless he positively had to.

So he went to Michael's house, had an awkward and mostly silent meal with his moms, and then dragged off to Michael's room, most likely to 

"I didn't see you at lunch, were you okay?" Michael asked, once they were out of earshot.

"I w-wasn't feeling p-particularly g-good, a-and I-I didn't w-want y-you to w-worry," Jeremy stutters, all of which technically isn't lying.

"Not feeling particularly good, as in..." Michael prompts.

"A-as in, h-headache, s-slipping on a-a l-leaf o-on th-the way to s-school and b-bruising up m-my back - d-don't you d-dare start c-cackling, M-michael Mell-"

"I wasn't going to. Can I see?" Michael asked.

"See w-what?"

"Your back. In case it needs medical attention."

"N-no." _He can't see your scars._

"No? What do you mean, no?"

"I-I already c-checked, i-it's n-not th-that b-bad, M-michael, j-just r-really h-hurt a-at the t-time. B-but I'm f-fine."

"You sure?"

"Y-yes."

"Anything else?"

"I-I need to... c-change m-my... m-my..." Jeremy trailed off.

Michael, luckily, understood. "It's okay man, you know where the bathroom is."

When Jeremy came back, fresh and clean-ish, Michael had set the heating pad that Jeremy had kept leaving over here in 7th grade that had eventually just became part of the designated Jeremy drawer on the bed, plugged in and warming up, plushy blankets, and his laptop with the newest Jaiden Animations video qued up all on his bed, and himself, too, looking at his phone while patiently waiting.

"What're y-you t-tweeting?" Jeremy asked, sliding onto the bed and sliding the toasty heating pad onto his pelvis, sighing in relief.

"Bold of you to assume I have a Twitter."

Jeremy held up his phone. "I was looking at Twitter on the toilet. I need part 9 of the Pokemon Go rant."

"Working on it," Michael replied, then decisively tapped his phone. "Posted."

"Ooh, r-reading it. Ugh, n-no, Twitter, I d-do n-not want t-to create a-an a-account," Jeremy groaned, clicking away the pop-up ad.

"Wait o-one _f-fucking_ second, Michael Mell. Jenna Rolan f-fucking _f-follows_ you?! A-and Brooke Lohst?"

"Yup, Jenna and I are friends. Also, you stuttering on fucking is the cutest thing ever."

"And o-once I-I thought th-that y-you _hated_ her," Jeremy shot back, a blush rising on his cheeks.

_He doesn't actually think you're cute, he's just saying that to make you feel better because it's that time of month. He really hates you, he only hangs out with you because he pities you. And now here you are, being jealous that he has other friends, you clingy girl._

Jeremy bit his lip and tried to keep his face steady, as to not reveal how he was feeling.

"That was ninth grade."

"Irrelevant."

Michael had finished his Twitter rant by then, as they'd talked, so Michael put on the video, Jeremy lying on his stomach next to him, heating pad positioned in just the right place.

As the video went on, Michael was clearly very invested in it, but Jeremy just couldn't concentrate. Too many voices, so many voices.

All telling him that he was _worthless_ and _a terrible friend_ and _a waste of space._

He badly wanted to retreat into the bathroom, but then Michael would suspect, and he knew that his moms had a key to the bathroom.

So he stayed there, stiff and uncomfortable and feeling so, so bad, and eventually, during a vine compilation, dropped off to sleep, though it was only 8 at that point.

_He doesn't even like you. He'd never return your un-platonic feelings._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> • These thoughts are just regular self-hating thoughts, NOT the squip. You'll be happy to hear that this is a Squip-free universe.
> 
> • The point of all this is that Jeremy's getting increasingly worse, leading up to chapter 5, the climax.


	5. like loosing my balance again and again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for mentions of self harm scars and self harming, suicidal thoughts, self hate, past transphobia and an implied attempt.
> 
> Chapter title from Sorrow by Sleeping At Last

“N-not to b-be d-dramatic, but I a-almost d-died c-coming h-here," Jeremy mentioned.

"How?" Michael asked, escorting him into his house.

"Some i-idiot driver a-almost r-ran me o-over when I w-was c-crossing, or, w-well, t-trying t-to c-cross, B-blue Jay S-street."

"Sounds awfully traumatic."

"It was."

"Oh, hi, Jeremy!" Jasmine, Michael's mom, called from the kitchen.

"Hi, Jasmine!"

"I overheard you, are you alright? Vanessa is studying for a BSN, she could help you."

"I'm right here," Vanessa chimed in from the breakfast table, head buried in a textbook.

"Hi, V-Vanessa," Jeremy waved.

"Hello, Jeremy."

"Me and Jeremy will be in the basement," Michael said.

"Okay, dinner's at 6:30, I'm making _chorizo_ ," Jasmine said.

"Got it," Michael and Jeremy said at the same time, and they erupted into giggles as they descended into the basement.

"So. Lilo and Stitch, or Twisted Wizard 3? Or Mario Kart, we haven't played that one in awhile." Michael asked, plopping down onto his designated beanbag, the one on the right.

"I'd l-like t-to d-drown myself i-in M-Mario Kart, p-please," Jeremy groaned, some of his happy and carefree painted-on exterior melting away, exposing a bit of something that... concerned Michael.

It'd been like this for awhile. After his mom had left, two months ago, his snarkiness and happiness had all but disappeared, except for a painted-on smile at school and for him. It was making him worried, and Jeremy wasn't opening up. He'd even debated staging an intervention, but decided that Jeremy probably wouldn't like that.

He'd grown more skittish, and flinchy. When Michael had run into an empty classroom where Jeremy was sitting alone, going over his script in the play he'd signed up for, A Gentleman's Guide To Love and Murder. His role was Lord Adalbert D’Ysquith, a pretty big one, and he'd been stressing out over it for days.

Michael was screaming about how he'd gotten ahold of a copy of Twisted Wizard 3 ahead of its release, Jenemy had almost hit the goddamn ceiling, and his breathing hadn't normalised by the time they'd parted ways for the next class.

He'd even been dropped from the play by Mr. Reyes, the grumpy English teacher also in charge of the drama program for 'being too flinchy, skittish, stuttering, and unsure, for the character, and poor performance on memorising,' and downgraded him to an understudy for Lord Adalbert and Chauncey, which meant another part to memorise, albeit a small one, but still.

It was quite a big change, and so many other little things, too, like his posture and overall demeanour... it was setting off too many red flags in Michael's head.

So after they'd chosen their characters (Yoshi for Jeremy, Princess Peach for Michael) and course (Donut Plains 3) and begun, and then Jeremy won, then Michael, and Michael again, before he began talking.

"How's your dad been doing, lately?" Michael asked, cutting off someone else and moving into 3rd place.

"N-not good."

"Anything from your mom?"

"N-nope."

Michael went quiet, thinking about ways to come at Jeremy's issues directly, and also thinking about rear-ending him in the game, which he did.

"D-dude!" Jeremy shrieked as he fell back into 7th place.

"Not sorry," Michael smirked. Then, "So how have _you_ been doing? I mean, considering everything."

Michael knew he'd chosen the wrong words the second they skipped out of his mouth, and wished he'd attached child leashes to them, so he could pull them back, because Jeremy stiffened up and snapped closed.

"Fine," Jeremy said, voice void of emotion, and Michael didn't dare press the issue until later, because he'd just close up even more, and then where would he be?

* * *

 

After dinner, they'd gone back to the basement to play Twisted Wizard 3, and it'd been nearly half an hour, long enough for them to really get into it, before Michael decided to try again.

"I've been worried about you. Yesterday, you said that your dad hadn't left the house in two weeks, and... are you eating okay?" Michael asked. If Jeremy responded to this one, he might be able to ask about the bigger thing he was worried about.

"Yeah. I-I w-went grocery s-shopping a-awhile b-back," Jeremy said quietly, scratching his head with his left arm without taking his eyes off the screen, which pushed the sleeve of his blue cardigan down about four inches or so.

Enough for Michael to see the scars littering Jeremy's pale skin.

He was so stunned that he dropped his controller, but he didn't care.

"Dude, w-we were s-so c-close!" Jeremy admonished, and followed Michael's gaze down.

_He saw._

He quickly pushed his sleeve down, but Michael grabbed his arm and pushed it up the rest of the way.

"Jeremy... oh my _god_ ," Michael choked. " _Why_?"

Jeremy was silent.

_Do something, you idiot._

"W-what do you m-mean, w-why?"

"Why would you do that? I could've helped! My Nanay is training to be a fucking nurse, too!"

"Y-you have y-your own problems! You don't need to worry about me! Last I checked, your new ADHD medication was giving you crap, and you're studying for a big math test. You have bigger fish to fry."

"I don't care what kind of fish you are, you're my friend, I'll fry you first! You never talk to me anymore, unless it's about video games, school, or me. Never about yourself, never about your dad."

"You h-haven't a-asked until n-now."

"What does that matter?"

"What, a-am I s-supposed to c-casually d-drop th-the f-fact that I h-haven't e-eaten i-in two d-days and I c-cut m-myself daily i-into the c-conversation? My a-anxiety d-doesn't e-even matter i-in th-that s-situation, b-because th-that's just n-not something y-you d-do. Except I j-just did i-it, b-because I'm a-a m-moron."

"I have anxiety too."

"I th-thought you w-were a-aiming the f-fight at m-my i-issues, n-not your o-own, Michael."

"No, I meant that I know what it's like!"

"Oh, s-so y-you know w-what it's l-like for y-your mom t-to n-not so s-secretly wish th-that you w-were still a-a girl a-and say th-that she d-doesn't w-want to e-ever see y-you a-again a-and then l-leave, y-you know w-what it's l-like to h-have t-to s-spend y-your o-own m-money on g-groceries or h-have to s-steal m-money that s-should've g-gone t-towards food a-anyway from y-your d-dad's wallet, y-you know w-what it's l-like to w-want t-to die a-at e-every m-moment of th-the day? Because s-somehow, I d-doubt th-that."

"Wait, wait, what?"

"You h-heard m-me."

"Jeremy..."

"D-don't 'Jeremy' m-me. We b-both know y-you don't actually l-like m-me. We b-both know h-how bad I r-really a-am. Just... j-just l-leave me a-alone," Jeremy said quietly, brushing past him.

Michael grabbed him and stepped in front of the basement door.

"Move."

"Jeremy, to be honest, it would be really fucking stupid to leave now if all you're gonna get when you go home is a heartbroken dad asleep on the couch."

The tears that'd been steadily collecting in Jeremy's green-blue eyes spilled over.

"Yeah, a-a dad who's heartbroken he h-has such a-a screwed-up _daughter_ ," he said clearly enough to stun Michael long enough to push him aside, open the door, and streak up the stairs.

"Jeremy-!"

* * *

 

Jeremy ignored Michael and his moms calling for him and ran all the way home, again almost getting run over, and when the driver had shouted an apology as Jeremy was panting on the other side of the sidewalk, he realised that he wished he'd died just then.

_Maybe you won't get run over, but there's a lot of other ways to die._

He slipped into his house quietly, seeing his dad asleep in front of the TV.

Just as Michael had said.

He took in his dad's big belly, his scruffy, overgrown beard, the sound of his snores, and the rather disgusting smell of his breath.

It was the last he'd see of his dad, after all.

He slipped upstairs and went into the bathroom, locking the door behind him, and reaching into the drawer, closing his hand around the small, rectangular, shiny, metal object he wanted.

* * *

 

Michael bolted from his car before he'd even turned it off, sprinting up the porch stairs, knocking loudly.

As he counted to twenty in his head, his eyes fell on the tulips. The ones Jeremy had been taking diligent care of ever since he got the bulbs in 8th grade.

They were dying.

 _Fuck_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> • The tulips are important. Jeremy had always taken care of them... and suddenly they're dying. Something had to have happened for Jeremy to have stopped taking care of them.
> 
> • The fight scene was hard to write, but I like the dynamic I have here. Jeremy's more fighting with himself than Michael, and Michael isn't fighting to win, not really. He's fighting the part of Jeremy that Jeremy's fighting.
> 
> • After Jeremy ran out, Michael didn't do anything for a bit, and then he was like, 'My transgender friend, who definitely has some form of depression, who self-harms, who has a bad situation at home, who is suicidal, just ran out in tears after misgendering himself. Maybe I should go after him.'


	6. i'll leave my window open ('cause i'm too tired at night to call your name)

"I'm here to see Jeremy Heere."

"He's not awake yet, but you may go and sit with him, visiting hours end at 6, room 215," the front desk lady said, not looking up from her computer screen.

"Thank you," Michael said, and hurried down the hall to the elevator, up, and then down the hall.

He saw someone - a girl? Did he know her? go into a room, and didn't think much of it until he realised that it was room 215.

He opened the door to see Christine Canigula with a succulent in a robin's egg blue pot in the middle of Jeremy's room.

"What're you doing here?" Michael asked quietly.

"I play Sibella in the musical. Jeremy and I have talked a lot, and... I just had to see that he was okay," she answered quietly, putting the succulent on the nightstand. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"I'm Michael, I'm his best friend."

She nodded. "If I'm making you uncomfortable, I can leave..."

"No, no, stay. Sit with him," Michael said.

The two of them settled in the two uncomfortable plastic hospital chairs, Christine being the one closest to Jeremy, and taking his hand, while Michael stared at the boy in the hospital bed.

He was almost unrecognisable, looking like a little pale doll in the huge bed, and the short-sleeved hospital gown exposed what looked like many month's worth of hurting, and the bandages starting on his forearms probably hid a lot more.

_Why didn't I interfere sooner?_

They were silent, for awhile, and the only movement was Christine putting Jeremy's hand to her forehead, and then Michael heard quiet chanting.

"Eleka nahmen nahmen ah tum ah tum eleka nahmen."

No doubt, it was Christine. It sounded like the stuff Jeremy had recited at his bar mitzvah so, so long ago. Was Christine Jewish? He didn't think so.

Her chant repeated a couple times before words he recognised were sung, "Let his flesh not be torn, let his blood leave no stain, when they beat him, let him feel no pain."

Christine countinued singing, quietly, and pulling off a quiet but impressive riff on the word 'Fiyero' somewhere on the way, and by the time the song was over, she was crying, teardrops raining softly down on the white sheet covering Jeremy.

"Why did you sing that?" Michael asked quietly.

Christine jumped. "You... you heard all that?"

"Yes. Why?"

Christine cleared her throat but didn't move from her position with Jeremy's limp hand on her forehead. "8th grade, before I moved here, I went through something... similar. My mom and dad divorced, and my mom got remarried to someone I hated, and my dad was distant. I... I overdosed on my ADHD medication, one day, and when I was unconscious in the hospital, this girl, Wendy, I barely knew her, she was in my drama class, she... she sang that to me, and told me later. I asked why, she said that it'd felt... right, somehow. So doing it now, for someone I don't really know... well, it feels like I'm... returning the favour, somewhat."

Michael was silent, and so was Christine for a long while, until Michael pulled Christine into a hug. Christine hugged back, a little awkwardly, since they were hugging over the arms of the plastic chairs.

When they left their embrace, they sat quietly, until Christine's phone buzzed. "That's my alarm, I have to go... I'm sorry..."

"No, thank you," Michael said softly. "I think that you're exactly what Jeremy needed."

Christine stared at him in surprise. "I came and took the chair closest to him even though you were the one who knew him best, I sang a stupid sad song and you had to comfort me-"

"No, I think he needed the song. Sure, it's not the most encouraging, 'everything will be alright' songs, but... he needed it. And, it's okay that you don't really know him, because you're going to get to know him, once he gets better," Michael said, with more determination in his voice than inside of him.

Christine smiled, cast a long glance at Jeremy, picked up her bookbag, waved to Michael, and left.

* * *

 

Jeremy waved shyly to the nurse who'd been wheeling the wheelchair from the backseat of the car, and once his hand was down and the nurse had smiled and said, "Get better soon!" (She probably didn't know what he was in for) his dad had shut the door softly, said something to the nurse, and then got in the driver's seat quietly, started the car, and drove off.

The ride was silent for awhile, until they'd hit a red on Route 8, and his dad turned around in his seat a little bit.

"I'm sorry, Jeremy. I should've tried harder," he said quietly.

"No, d-dad, it's n-not your f-fault."

"Partially, yes, it is. And it's partially your mom's fault, and partially the fault of whatever mental illness has claimed your brain. But it's definitely partially my fault for not being there-"

"The l-light's g-green."

"And I'm going to try harder. I'll go to work, I'll go grocery shopping, take you to therapy. We're going to make this work."

"Okay."

They were both silent again.

"Dad?"

"Yes, Jeremy?"

"Did Michael e-ever c-come visit?"

"He's the one who found you, and then he came in the beginning, when you were still asleep, but I assumed he'd come after that, too."

"No, h-he didn't. J-just the g-girl from d-drama."

_He found me? He had to look at me unconscious on the bathroom floor with blood everywhere? Maybe that's why he didn't come once I was awake._

"Well, I'm sure he'll come over at some point. If not, you'll see him at school, but you aren't going back there for at least a week."

"Okay."

* * *

 

Jeremy had had dinner with his dad and then retreated upstairs as soon as he could. His phone, which had been left in his room, showed three missed calls from Michael, but on the day of their fight, and nothing else.

He debated calling him, but if he hadn't come to see him in the hospital once he was awake, why would he want to hear from him now? Likely, he was still angry at him, which was understandable.

He went over to the window and carefully opened it, letting in a little bit of moisture from the rain that'd collected on the windows, and rested his chin on the windowsill, opting to keep his still bandaged and sore arms in his lap. The window was low enough and he was tall enough to kneel on the floor in front of it and do so.

A gentle wind blew, and Jeremy found some of the rain, which had been steadily falling straight before, now directed at his face. It felt nice, and cool, and comforting.

He stayed there for a long while, watching cars come and go, the streetlights flicker on, the rain, until he eventually decided to get into bed.

He left the window wide open, and found himself staring out it for hours, since sleep had decided to take a vacation somewhere else.

He'd spent so long staring out it that it took him a couple moments to process that there was a live human being on his windowsill, and then on his floor.

A girlish shriek came quickly, but he covered his own mouth before the person had to.

The person stood again, and the hood was pushed down.

Michael.

"Michael? W-what're you d-doing h-here?"

"I came to apologise."

"A-apologise? F-for what?"

Michael sighed and sat on the edge of Jeremy's bed, staring out at the wall, not looking at Jeremy. "What do you think? I only came to see you once, when you were asleep."

"We h-had a-a fight. It's o-okay."

"We didn't have a fight, Jeremy, you had a fight. With yourself. And I wasn't there for you during that fight."

"Michael, th-that's not your fault."

"Don't you see?" Michael choked, turning to face Jeremy. "I knew that something was wrong, but I waited to intervene until it was too late! You could've died!"

"But I didn't. A-and you found m-me. You h-had t-to see me, c-covered in b-blood and u-unconscious. Nobody e-ever n-needs to see th-that, b-but I p-put you th-through it."

"I feel like that's only a little payment for how much I ignored your issues until it was too late."

Jeremy reached out and grabbed Michael's hand and held it in both of his. It was cold, and trembling. "I'm g-going t-to get help, Michael, m-my dad's gonna b-be better, a-and I'm n-not going t-to try a-and do th-that a-again."

"Jeremy-"

"I l-love y-you, Michael, a-and I c-can't do th-that a-again n-now th-that I k-know th-that."

Michael stared at him. "What are you saying?"

"You know w-what I'm s-saying... a-and now th-that I think a-about it, th-this w-was a t-terrible idea a-and I sh-should g-go a-away n-now a-and-"

Michael cut him off by cupping his face in his and kissing him softly.

Jeremy kissed back slowly, eyes locked shut.

When they broke away, they stared at each other for a moment.

"You t-too?" Jeremy asked quietly.

"Since freshman year... god, Jeremy, I don't know how I would've lived if you hadn't..."

"K-kiss me a-again."

* * *

 

They'd ended up in bed together, Michael's damp hoodie tossed haphazardly onto the ground, Jeremy the little spoon but facing inwards, his head buried in Michael's neck.

A small smile against the taller boy's collarbone confirmed it- he was going to get better.

Jeremy's phone buzzed on the desk, and though he was too close to sleep to bother checking it now, later he'd see that Michael had given Christine his number.

Mr. Heere, having stayed up late, doing research on his laptop at the kitchen table, quietly opened Jeremy's door to check up on him, and smiled at the sight of the two boys tangled up in his blankets.

Outside, the tulips on the porch were again beginning to thrive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> • Idina Menzel, at one point, said that the chant at the beginning of No Good Deed reminded her of the stuff she'd done at her Bat Mitzvah, and y'know how I am about including that kind of stuff.
> 
> • I think that Christine being there and Christine having Jeremy's number, plus Jenna and Brooke following Michael, sets them up to eventually become friends with all the others, i.e Rich, Jenna, Jake, Chloe, etc. 
> 
> • I struggled with an ending for this, and then I realised, "The tulips. The motherfucking tulips, goddamn it."
> 
> • The timeline, as promised:
> 
> chapter one (here comes the rain again) - mid-june 
> 
> chapter two (get over here and play a video game) - late july, juuust before the start of school
> 
> chapter three (uneven odds) - early august, about a week or so into the school year
> 
> chapter four (storms are approaching) - mid/late october 
> 
> chapter five (like loosing my balance again and again) 30 november 
> 
> chapter six (i'll leave my window open 'cause i'm too tired at night to call your name) 9 december
> 
> edit: 1000 hits, 100 kudos, oh my lord, I've died and gone to heaven. thank y'all so, so much!!!! <3 <3


End file.
